Fabula Nova Crystalis
by YaoiSongstress07
Summary: Ezio/Leonardo. Finale of a project published on DeviantArt. Leonardo's heart has gone down a long, winding road, but true love blossoms, even in the midst of overwhelming darkness. Ezio has been long gone, but Leonardo soon realizes love never leaves.


**Assassin's Creed fandom. Ezio/Leonardo. If you're allergic to boy's love, and/or the featured couple, you're free to take your leave.**

**This entire project was originally published in DeviantArt. To see the entire project, and more AC adventures, please check out my DeviantArt gallery at: MewMewShia. Thank you for your time.**

**This chapter was inspired by a Leonardo da Vinci documentary, and Kathleen McGowan's 'Magdalene Line'.**

**OC: Rebretta Olivieri. Character inspired by 'Azuki Salute' of hitsukuya's gallery. Has cheerful green eyes and long brown hair, accompanied by hair ribbons.**

**Inaccurate Italian:  
>Pagano: Heathen<br>Buon Natale: Merry Christmas  
>Buon Guorno: Hello<br>Un vero Assassino: A true Assassin  
>Dominio: Lordship<br>Lucciola: Firefly**

_

Crystalis 04

"Leonardo, what is keeping your heart from smiling?"

What now? The painter had exhausted his supply of excuses. Besides, he had already done insane damage by claiming he was hungry, dismissing the day's wonderful performances-but when Ezio took him to lunch, he treated his beautiful meal as if he had turned into a wickedly fussy mouse! He couldn't tell Ezio he wanted to drown, because that would've been plain idiocy-

"It is nothing. I am merely tired. Worn out from the day's adventures! That's all."

The Auditore's eyes were those of a lost, lonely puppy. "But you have been distant, caro mio," he said softly, warmly, thoroughly worried. He looked as if he wished to cry, heartbroken by his Leonardo's behavior. His warm, brown eyes were even sweeter than the moon, filled with love Leonardo so desperately wanted to believe in.

"I fear you have become tired of me. This festival cannot be the cause of your woes, for you have spent many ages dreaming of this!"

_

"I have brought this all on myself. I...well, I...I never took the time to..."

At that point, Italia's beloved painter was thoroughly horrified-and crushed. "Ezio," the soft feather said, landing a hand on the Auditore's shoulder. "You believe I am fretful because we have not-"

The question was cut short, due to a staggering rush of shyness. Crimson rose petals painted Leonardo's cheeks, and the poor thing bowed his head. "So you have lost faith," Giovanni's fireball exclaimed, the intensity of his voice alarming their gondolier. He grabbed a wide-eyed, tearful Leonardo by the shoulders and continued.

"Forgive me, my blue-eyed dewdrop. I have only refrained from making love to you because...! Well..."

"You do not know how," a smiling, loving pearl said, stroking Ezio's arm as if it were liquified diamond. As clumsy as ever, Federico's partner-in-crime struggled to come up with an explanation. "I do not wish to make anything awkward," the young Auditore said with a sigh, hanging his head.

"I have never...well...you know."

Leonardo's blue eyes lit up the night sky. "I know."

"And it's not only that, Leonardo. I'd make love to you in a heartbeat even if you were a woman. What you are does not matter. It's just...I...I want it to be special. I want everything to be right."

_

"I am the one that needs to be forgiven. You have given me the love, peace and fulfillment I sought every waking moment of my life-the life I led before I met you. And by bringing me here, you have granted every last one of my dreams. But...I know that dreams cannot last forever. I know that, someday, I will open my eyes...and you'll be gone."

Ezio stared at Leonardo, as if the artist were speaking in backwards German.

"I truly am sorry, tesoro mio. I love you, have always loved you, and will continue to love you with every breath I taken-even after you're long gone, and no longer have any need of me. I have spent so many hours worrying over the loss of my dream, not enjoying what Heaven's grace has given me. By doing so, I have defiled the very dream I've been carrying, deep within my heart. But no more. From this point on, I will enjoy myself-even if you and I never kiss. Besides, I feel as if though you've made love to me half a million times already."

_

"I thought angels were light enough to float."

"I float all of the time...with you," a breathless pearl defied him, giving off a harmless scowl. He straightened his sodden red hat, Ezio gave him a grin that knocked him senseless-

"Do not mock me. I've been in stranger positions. Did I ever tell you about the time I-"

Leonardo told Ezio absolutely nothing. He couldn't, because he forgot how to speak. Languages, words, rhythm, breathing-it was all forgotten, swept away by a kiss. A wet, warm, invigorating, searing kiss. The light of that kiss, engulfed in fireworks and bliss, would forever remain with a bird that had once been frightened.

Ten years passed. And that light never flickered. Not even once.

_

Crystalis 05

In the years that followed, Leonardo da Vinci flew on silver wings.

Dark winds transformed the feather's world, but his heart remained in love's soft glow. Not **once** did Ezio Auditore turn away from him, honoring his promise to cherish the artist with undying devotion. Italia changed so much for both of them, placing them on separate paths, but **every** measure was taken to keep love's sweet song alive. Giovanni Auditore's last son took great care of his heart, and Leonardo did everything in his power to soothe **Ezio's.** Neither of them could deny the death of innocence, but neither of them were willing to forfeit what Heaven had given them. Regardless of how much darkness swept through Italia, they would remain. They would withstand the test of time, forever strong in the eyes of holiness.

Several more years down the road, Leonardo's faith in their love, their **light,** wavered.

An Assassin's life separated him from his Ezio for ages on end. As time went on, those empty, bleak ages drove **deeper** stakes into the artist's heart. He felt no ill will towards Italia's brave eagle, completely aware of his blades and the Creed. Regardless of his abhorrence for war, Leonardo knew and respected Ezio's path. He would be **damned** before he'd ever dishonor an Assassin's mission, **or** his searing bond to the lady Maria's last son. But-

Happiness did not come without pain. Dark, searing, **agonizing** pain.

At first, Leonardo and Ezio were only separated by **weeks.** A couple of lonely, intolerable weeks would crawl by, and a precious face literally dropped into his workshop. But as Italia's dark tides grew stronger, weeks turned into **months.** The inventor's longing for a special, precious face grew by volumes with every second that passed. Not once did the pearl shelter anger, frustration or sorrow towards the Assassin's path. But Leonardo was ready and willing to sacrifice **everything,** even his Heavensent gifts, for a glimpse of Ezio's face. After four months of silence, the miracle worker was willing to even sacrifice **eyesight.**

Ezio's absence left a searing, white-hot wound across Leonardo's heart. As painful as the Assassin's absence was, it wasn't the pearl's only dilemma. Patrons were increasingly hurtful, cruel against him and his artwork. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make an increasing cloud of people smile. Sometimes, his artwork was crushed right before his very eyes. Beloved pieces were trampeled, even as he wept-by hands and hearts that did **not** care. People scarred his sculptures and paintings. Patrons, present and old, laughed at him as he walked through the streets.

And every night he wept, until slumber overtook him.

_

Christmas came. And with it came Heaven's fluff.

So many had surrendered their memories of Leonardo, all in favor of a bitter future. Those venomous hearts had taken up arms against Italia's feather, supporting a new face. A new name.

Michaelangelo was being ushered into a new, prosperous light. And Michaelangelo **never** hesitated to show his dislike of Italia's pearl.

Not **everyone** betrayed Leonardo, though. Many of Italia's children chose to keep their faith in Leonardo strong. Many continued to love him, just as kin loved one another. But they worried. They worried over Leonardo, and how he had disappeared. His canvas had been blank for so long, and so they worried. No one had seen a single inkblot from him in months. No one had even seen **him** in months.

A week before Christmas, priests saw fit to deliver early gifts to Leonardo's workshop. Cursing his very name, they cast not only snowballs at his workshop, but **rocks** as well. They laughed, warning him of how he'd burn in Hell.

_"Pagano! You will rue the day you were born, standing on God's threshold!"_

_"Filthy liar! You claimed to be a Messenger of Heaven, but your lies are worthless now!"_

_"You will regret spreading your blasphemous, base magic across our sacred land!"_

And all Leonardo da Vinci ever wanted to do was make people happy.

But happiness would **never** come again.

If he was fated to spend the rest of his days without light, he couldn't possibly spread happiness to others. Not even to those that still supported him, loved him and missed him. Not even Christmas, a holiday he loved dearly, could revive a heart that had been broken so many times. He felt lonely, lost. Empty. **Lifeless.** Trapped in a world that was filled with equally empty magic.

_

Christmas came, and it was most likely the last day Leonardo would see.

His eyes would close alongside Rebretta Olivieri, a young maiden with one of Italia's rare, pristine hearts. As one of Leonardo's last patrons, she sheltered a tremendous amount of concern over the artist's absence-and not because her boyfriend would go without a birthday gift. She ventured into the painter's workshop one day, and found an unconscious Leonardo on the floor.

From that point on, she was a steadfast companion. His **only** companion. His friend and guardian.

Her boyfriend inquired after her whereabouts. When he found out where his Rebretta had gone, he became **furious-** and she became furious with **him,** disgusted by how he supported Michaelangelo and his pursuit of immortality. If he was such a passionate, stalwart fan of that bastard, as she put it, then he could blow himself straight into Hell.

She then slammed the door in his face, returning to the abandoned magic of Leonardo's workshop.

She dusted off forgotten sculptures. She went to market, and invented a wide assortment of soups for her patient. Turned the pages of forgotten storybooks, songs and rhymes. Taught herself how to play the violin, a prototype of the miracle Leonardo had given Lorenzo de Medici long ago. And at the pearl's bedside she played, giving him the only peace he had known in months. Giving him the only happiness he had known in ages.

Giving him the **last** gleams of happiness he'd know.

Leonardo never spoke to her. Grief had stolen his voice months ago. But his blue eyes, worn and weary, told all. They spoke of love, pure and unbridled. They sang of gratitude, just as clear and high as Heaven's clouds. He did not mind as she tended to his abandoned messes, nor did he mind her interest in books that were once secret. He never spoke to her, but he was immeasurably grateful for her presence-and she knew it.

Every night, Rebretta prayed.

She prayed to the Holy Father for relief. She begged Him to keep Leonardo da Vinci, Heaven's **true** Messenger, amidst the world of men. Every day she tended to the withering feather, and couldn't stand the possibility of losing him. Without expressing her worries to the miracle worker himself, she prayed underneath a silvery blue sky. And even though Christmas promised to be tragic, her faith was strong. That faith led her through the silent day with a broad, sparkling smile.

The afternoon came, enshrouded in silence. A frantic hand broke the snowy, enigmatic dirge of Italia, knocking upon Leonardo's door. Rebretta set aside a meticulously, lovingly made meal and rushed to the door, quickly allowing a man of holy garb to enter. Green eyes became paintings of immeasurable hope, immediately recognizing the man upon his entry. "You know who I am," the noble said breathlessly, clutching a scroll to his chest. Rebretta nodded passionately, her smile blessing Leonardo's workshop.

"Yes! I have seen you before. You are Lorenzo de Medici!"

Despite his rapidly beating heart, Lorenzo was soothed by the maiden's presence. Her words were solid proof of her spiritual intimacy with Leonardo; she spoke merrily, warmly, and not of the Medici's obvious reputation. "I have seen **you** before, too," the regal pillar of Italia said, offering her a frail smile. "People say you are my old friend's assistant."

Rebretta's tender features became solemn. "I do not deserve to be addressed as such," the Olivieri said, swift but gentle. "I am merely protecting someone that is precious to me. Someone that is precious to so **many** of us. Never will an idiot like me become an assistant to Our Grace."

"I beg to differ. May I see him?"

"Certainly," the young woman replied instantly, leading Lorenzo de Medici by the hand. In a flash, both of them were at the artist's bedside. Rebretta greeted the mute Leonardo with a warm, musical smile, landing soft hands onto his arms. She silently rejoiced at the sight of him upright, blue eyes open and alert. Those same eyes were tired, but open nonetheless. "Buon Natale, mi amici," the Medici said gently, peering straight into the artist's eyes.

Leonardo's smile broke Lorenzo's heart. "I have come to you with a gift," the Medici said, frantic but soft as he unrolled the scroll. The blue-eyed, wingless bird exchanged a glance with Rebretta, then returned his eyes to Lorenzo. "There are stories, Leonardo," he went on.

"Stories of a Heavensent warrior. **Your** Heavensent **champion!** He has been all over Italia, defending your name! He has even recruited **me** in the hopes of ridding our land of filth! All over our grand empire, the greatest names in Italia's history have come together to honor you. Your past patrons, my **family-** they're all fighting on your behalf, hoping to restore your throne. United by...the man you know as Ezio Auditore."

Leonardo's face couldn't be read. Lorenzo handed Rebretta his precious scroll, her green eyes quickly darted over its contents-

"The knight from those stories gave me that message. This message is for his one. His only."

The artist gripped his blankets. _"To my dearest flower,"_ Rebretta began, reading from Lorenzo's scroll. She read as frantically as her lips and heart would allow.

_"My love for you grips me with such power, I can barely put it into words. It pains me to do so, but my path prevents me from giving you a true monument. The path I have chosen keeps me from seeing your radiant, beautiful eyes, my Leonardo, and for that I am truly sorry. I am familiar with the tenderness of your heart, so I know of the pain you endure. I know you worry over me, and I am sorry._

_In the past, I took great risks in entering your shop. Your shop was my only source of comfort, security and warmth. Your workshop was a home to me-the only home I've ever know, and ever will know in the years to come. But the wars grow darker, and beasts threaten your safety. I can not, will not, take any more risks with your life. I will contact you whenever I can, dear heart, but never again will I endanger your life. I would never forgive myself if an unholy bastard attacked you, just to have his revenge on me._

_My body is distant, but my heart forever remains with you. I would forfeit the use of my arms and legs, just to be near you. It saddens me, but I must honor you from afar-and honor you I will, long after I have drawn my last breath. I can only dream of your touch, your scent and magnificence, but I promise to forever honor you-even if I can only do so from a distance._

_I know of the horrible crimes that have been committed against you. I learned of your horrors from two street insects, shouting your name. I have...given them other things...to think about-"_

Lorenzo grinned. Smiling, a rosy-cheeked Leonardo shook his head.

_Oh, Ezio._

_"-but ignorant peons were not my only concern. I have rallied your allies. They all stand for you, with you, in your darkest hours. I stand with you, for you, in honor of you. Forever and always. Even as I write this, your radiance is quickly being restored all over Italia. Their hearts are torches, held aloft in your name. So remember, my flower. When all lights go out, hold onto the light we bear. Never let the darkness clip your wings. Remember, I am with you."_

With cheeks as red as roses, Leonardo shut his eyes. Lorenzo noticed how he tightened his grip on his sheets, and landed a loving hand onto his friend's shoulder. _"Ti amo,"_ Rebretta went on, voice trembling.

_"I love you...far more than words will ever be able to measure. I can only dream of holding you, so close to this heart that aches for you. But...but I am always with you. I have always loved you, always will love you, and...will never...forsake you."_

A weighty pause was taken. The Olivieri shut her eyes, allowing tears to flow but trying so hard not to sob. His eyes glistening with tears, the Medici brought a trembling Leonardo into his arms. Rebretta continued after a moment of silence, diamonds rushing from green purity. _"Oh, and before I go, please honor my wish,"_ the maiden read on amidst hiccups. The sonnet of bliss soared through her eyes.

_"If you see two heralds without tongues, tell them I said 'buon guorno'."_

"Un vero Assassino," a tearful Lorenzo said, clasping a hand over his heart. The only maiden in Leonardo da Vinci's life carefully rolled up the scroll, handed it to her silent maestro and spoke. "Dominio...this is **exactly** what I've been praying for! I asked Our Father to shed light onto your path, and you're **holding** that light! Signorio Medici brought you the answer to my prayers!"

"Happy Christmas," the beaming noble said, pretending to be carefree. And with the eyes of a frantic, shocked, stunned infant, Leonardo peered at him. Clutching the scroll to his chest, he then caressed Lorenzo's face with his free hand. A moment passed before he used that same hand to caress Rebretta's face, who held his hand in place for a moment. Smiling, shedding so many tears, the artist took a deep breath. Lorenzo and Rebretta exchanged a fretful glance, Leonardo laid his back against his pillows-

And another miracle was born.

For the first time in ages, the miracle worker spoke. The Olivieri and Medici strained to hear him, but their friend's voice was peaceful. Warm.

**Happy.**

"Ah, well. This proves I was wrong."

"How?" the maiden asked gently, peering straight into watery blue eyes. Leonardo, although weak beyond measure, gave her a vibrant smile. "I thought we had been torn apart," the frail painter went on, gripping her arm.

"But I was mistaken, lucciola. He never left me."

_

_Leonardo introduced Rebretta Olivieri to Lorenzo de Medici, describing her as 'his assistant, confidant, guardian angel and best friend'. He said she had the regal beauty of a Queen, and thanked God for sending her into his path._

_He then apologized for ruining her relationship with Dante, and did not want their love to end on his behalf._

_Rebretta gave him a look that would've frightened Rodrigo Borgia._

_Together, the maiden, noble and artist shared Christmas. Leonardo was far too weak to get out of bed, but he shared a hearty celebration with a small, precious family. Rebretta served her maestro's favorite chowder, Lorenzo spoke of his kingdom's joyous tidings, and all was wondrously well in a small workshop._

_Leonardo kept Ezio's message close, whether it was underneath his pillow or one of his many pockets. Every night he clutched it and whispered 'good night' with a smile, growing much stronger every day. Able to smile without fear or sorrow. And in sleep he dreamt of a dashing hero, a white-robed figure on a brilliantly white horse._

_Every morning he awakened to the aroma of Rebretta's breakfast, clutching his beloved scroll._

_Three weeks later, Lorenzo de Medici and Rebretta Olivieri accompanied Leonardo as he walked onto his own battlefield-the house of Michaelangelo. His scroll remained tucked inside of him as he walked on, head held high._


End file.
